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mariacallous · 2 years

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When my friend Lakshminarayana Ganti, an operations management and cybersecurity specialist from India, texted me this year to let me know that the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) had “lost” the $1,225 check his lawyer had submitted as payment for processing his green card application, I wasn’t especially shocked. Such incompetence is commonplace in U.S. immigration bureaucracy, and most immigrants to the United States have experienced or heard of similar treatment.

The resulting delay though meant that his eligibility for a green card lapsed—the official term is “retrogressed”—and he could now be looking at another year or more before he can reapply. He has already been waiting nearly 10 years. Travel outside the country is severely restricted for green card applicants; he will miss the overseas wedding next February of his nephew, his only close relative currently living in the United States. Both he and his employer, a data management company in Washington, will face thousands of dollars in additional legal expenses to renew his work permit and refile applications.

Ganti has a great deal of company these days. At the end of 2021, there were 1.4 million immigrants on temporary visas working in the country and waiting for the U.S. government to issue them green cards that will finally give them permanent residence and a path to citizenship. David Bier, an immigration expert at the Cato Institute, calculates that the backlog is now so long that more than 200,000 eligible people could die without ever receiving their green card. Some 90,000 children of people in the backlog will “age out”—turning 21 years old without the permanent status in the United States that they would have gained if a parent had received a green card, at which point they must either leave the country, marry a U.S. citizen, or remain as an unauthorized immigrant. More than 80 percent of those caught in the backlog are from India.

The story about the costs and dysfunction of the United States’ ridiculous immigration system has and should be told—again and again. The United States is relying on its engineering and science talent to stay ahead of China in what has become an existential struggle to lead in the industries of the future, from artificial intelligence to green energy to bioengineering. At U.S. universities, international students make up 74 percent of graduate electrical engineering students, 72 percent of computer and information science students, and half or more students in pharmaceutical sciences, mathematics, and statistics. Foreign students who settled in the United States now head flagship high-technology companies, including Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella, Alphabet CEO Sundar Pichai, IBM CEO Arvind Krishna, and Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang. The obstacles thrown up by the immigration system are a growing economic and national security risk to the United States.

The short version of how the current immigration debacle unfolded is that due to partisan differences between Republicans and Democrats over immigration—which are deeper today than ever before—the U.S. Congress has not revised immigration quotas since 1965, when the U.S. population was almost 140 million people smaller. Nor has Congress revisited the rules for highly educated immigrants since 1990—which was before the U.S. information technology sector created millions of new jobs in technical fields that have attracted so many immigrant scientists and engineers. Reforming immigration has been difficult enough. But with the Republicans—who have become an openly anti-immigrant party under the influence of former U.S. President Donald Trump—likely to retake at least the House of Representatives in next month’s midterm elections, prospects for reform will be even dimmer over the next two years.

These antiquated laws impose arbitrary caps on the number of green cards that can be issued each year to nationals of any single country, which hits populous countries the hardest. Under the 1965 law, no more than 7 percent of the 140,000 employment-based green cards issued each year can be given to citizens of any one country. The backlog depends on demand, and a surge in applications can push back waiting times. Currently, the U.S. government is only processing employment-based green card applications for Indians with at least a bachelor’s degree—known as the EB-2 category—if they filed their application before April 1, 2012. Ganti’s “priority date” is July 25, 2013; if the Department of Homeland Security had not lost his application check, then he would have had his green card before the date retrogressed.

There is also a more personal story about the Kafkaesque horrors of the way the United States mistreats its immigrants—those, to be clear, who are following all the rules and behaving exactly as the U.S. government has asked them to. Most come initially as foreign students, and from the first day they arrive, they are expected to navigate a bureaucratic system of almost unimaginable complexity, with the penalty for even one small mistake potentially being the loss of their education, jobs, families, and friends—as well as their removal to a country they left years or even decades before. Immigrants awaiting green cards are forced to make personal decisions about which jobs to take, whether to buy property, and whether to marry—always with a nagging dread that the U.S. government could rip it all apart in an instant. Leaving an unpleasant or underpaid job is difficult because they risk losing their spot in the coveted green card queue. What the government does to immigrants is immensely cruel to people who want nothing more than to build good lives in the United States and are following the rules to do so.

In many ways, immigration to the United States has become an elaborate scheme of bait and switch. U.S. universities are only too happy to receive large tuition checks from foreign students, who often come from wealthy families or are otherwise ineligible for financial aid. U.S. companies are happy to hire them on temporary work visas, of which the most common is the H-1B visa for university graduates. But having invited them in, the government then makes it impossible for many to live any semblance of a normal life. As Rajika Bhandari, an Indian American social scientist, puts it in her recent book America Calling: A Foreign Student in a Country of Possibility: “Too often, when international students choose to stay, they face a downward spiral into a deep, dark abyss of rules, visas, delays, fear, and worst of all, a crippling uncertainty about their future.”

Indian students are well aware of the risks, Today, more are heading to Canada than to the United States—even though the former has around one-tenth the population of the latter—largely because they see a more realistic path to successful permanent residence and citizenship. The loss will be felt more acutely with the continued decline of Chinese students at U.S. schools; amid growing U.S.-China tensions and China’s zero-COVID restrictions, student visa applications from China fell by more than 50 percent during the first half of this year compared to pre-pandemic levels.

I came to know Ganti the first time the U.S. immigration bureaucracy tried to rip away his life. He came to the United States as an engineering student in 1996, when the green card wait was several years at most. He was encouraged by his father, who taught electrical engineering for many years at the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, and he won a scholarship to attend Purdue University in Indiana. Ganti went on to earn his MBA from Babson College in Boston and was hired in 2006 as a quantitative analyst by a financial company.

He had reached out to me early in 2009 because of my writing on issues of immigration and national security. Some 16 months earlier, he had traveled back to India to visit his family. Expecting that his work visa would be routinely renewed for him to return to his job in Boston, he instead got caught up in the often arbitrary and lengthy scrutiny that faced unlucky visa applicants for many years after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He waited month after month without any word from the U.S. State Department on when his visa might be issued. In all, he was trapped back in New Delhi for more than two years and lost his job in the United States. When he finally got a new job offer to return and applied for a new visa, he ended up caught in a second lengthy review. In neither case did the U.S. government explain the rationale for the delays.

I testified about his case and others to Congress in 2011; his visa was finally approved shortly after, and he was able to move to Washington. We became friends. He came to dinner at my home and watched our kids in school musicals. I met his parents and his nephew. We have visited many times since.

Ganti is a good and trusted citizen, if the word “citizen” has any meaning. But with the exception of the two years he was stuck back in India, he has now lived in the United States legally for 26 years without the slightest assurance that he will be permitted to stay, and he still risks being locked out again for arbitrary reasons if he travels abroad.

There is little legal recourse for those caught in situations like Ganti’s. Immigration lawyers have been filing a record number of so-called mandamus cases—three times the number of just two years ago. These are a type of legal action that can force the government to speed up the processing of work permits and travel authorizations. In addition to statutory waiting times, DHS often takes many months or longer to handle routine document requests, and the delays became much worse in the wake of COVID-19-related shutdowns. But processing delays are not the biggest issue. Indeed, under the Biden administration, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (the DHS agency that processes claims), has made some significant progress. This year, it has issued some 280,000 green cards, double the normal number, using provisions that allowed the agency to “recapture” green cards that were not issued in 2021, largely because of pandemic shutdowns.

The bigger problem remains the outdated quota restrictions imposed by Congress. In the latest of many efforts at a partial remedy, House Democrats included in their version of the CHIPS and Science Act provisions that would have created exemptions from annual green card limits for foreign nationals with a doctorate in science or technology as well as for those with a master’s degree in “critical” industries like semiconductors, where U.S. need for highly skilled workers is growing. But the measure was blocked by 89-year-old Iowa Republican Sen. Chuck Grassley, a longtime opponent of the entire H-1B program who is up for reelection in November. Other legislative initiatives have also been blocked by Republicans, continuing two decades of failure to reform any significant aspects of U.S. immigration law.

Immigrants like Ganti will keep coming, though in significantly smaller numbers in recent years, because of the hope and opportunities still offered by the United States. But unless something dramatic changes in U.S. immigration law—which seems less likely now than ever—they, too, will be betrayed by the country they have chosen.

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lacharcutiere · 3 years

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epilogue [sawamura daichi]

1k words

previous | masterlist

the final installment of the i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone miniseries. it's been worth every second of waiting.

tings // fluff, brief mention of sex // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // a.n.: thank u guys all so much for all the support you've given me over the past couple weeks <3

☾𓆙𓂻

— COMMENCEMENT: 14 MAY 2025. 13:00 EDT.

your parents are in the crowd as you cross the stage, as you receive a document which states that you have successfully obtained your bachelor's degree, as you shake the dean's hand. your bags are packed but for a few last-minute items; in thirty hours you'll be boarding a plane back to japan and daichi will be at the airport waiting, just like he always is.

— ARRIVAL: 17 MAY 2025. 18:37 JST.

you passed out in the car on the way home; you hardly slept on the plane. daichi dropped off your parents and the luggage at your place and took you back to his.

now you come awake slowly on sheets that smell like him. the sun is going down. jet lag is strange. you roll over to find daichi sitting on the other side of his bed, holding a pillow to his chest as he scrolls through his phone. you give yourself a moment to just take in the sight before he notices you're up.

"morning, princess," he says. "or evening, rather."

you laugh, sitting up and resting your head on his shoulder. he pulls you closer. "what time's it?"

"like, six-thirty? you hungry?"

"hmm." you let your eyes drift shut again for a moment. "i could go for dinner."

"ramen?"

"ramen."

☾𓆙𓂻

it's déjà vu; waking up in his bed, returning to that ramen shop where this all began. you're home; you love it.

☾𓆙𓂻

it's decided that you'll take a gap year before going back to school. daichi's nagging at you to take care of yourself is finally beginning to sink in, and you decide that you really do need a break right now.

you get a job tutoring middle-schoolers to keep yourself busy; it's relatively easy work and you enjoy it. daichi's over at your house after you both get off work pretty much every day. in spite of his constant apologies, your parents insist that they love having him there—it's true. he's family.

around the end of summer you begin submitting applications to master's programs here and there: one to columbia, because you did really like it there, one to yale because it's worth a shot. one to uc berkley, another to stanford. one to king's college in london and another to the university of edinburgh; a new country could be fun.

☾𓆙𓂻

in the early spring of the following year, decisions start to roll in. daichi's there to lean on when your application gets rejected; there to share a bottle of wine with you when you get in.

with the last of them, the two of you begin to plan your next moves. in june you commit to stanford; you hunt for apartments and start packing.

— 10 JULY 2026.

it's a much shorter flight into san francisco than it is into queens. that much is nice. and it'll be a little cheaper to go back to japan or have family visit here.

the studio you've rented on the southern edge of menlo park is cozy and adorable, if a bit dated. you fill it with books, make several trips to ikea to furnish it. within a few weeks, it is distinctly yours.

☾𓆙𓂻

and of course there's all the late nights you stay up with daichi, watching movies and talking about stupid things and breathing the same air. it's like a sleepover with your best friend every single night. you knew, and yet after all these years, it amazes you, the way you're still so in love.

it's not always easy, that much is a fact. there are spats and it takes either of you a month to find a decent paying job, then there's your studies and the fact that living in the bay area is extremely expensive for a couple half-broke twenty-somethings. but what it is is always worth it. it's worth the money being tight and the late nights into early mornings juggling school and work and the milk going bad in the fridge because no one's had time to remember to get groceries and the four years you waited for this.

it's worth it because you get to crawl into bed next to him at three in the morning, knowing you'll have to be up at seven, and it's worth it because he's sitting at the kitchen counter with an extra cup of coffee already there for you in the morning. he's someone to gently take you to bed when you've fallen asleep on an open book at your desk, someone to text you reminders throughout the day that there're leftovers in the fridge and you need to eat.

when it's too much and you can't take anymore stress he's there to kiss you and fuck you so you can forget all of it for a moment. when, a few months into the semester, your temper grows shorter, he makes it a point that the both of you talk about how your week's been, how you're doing, as you fall asleep on saturday nights.

it's worth it; he's patient and he's your best friend and you know that aside from yourself, he's all you've got as you begin to make a life for yourself in california. you wouldn't change that for anything.

☾𓆙𓂻

and it doesn't matter to daichi that everything he used to consider home is on the other side of the pacific, because those are the key words: used to. he's in america with you now. wherever you are—that's home. this is what he realized so many years ago, watching you at your high school graduation party, and this is what he's waited all this time for. it's all worth it, every second.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#so like #i was not gonna post this tonight #but then i started writing it and it just kinda kept going #so here lol #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #not rly #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi x reader angst #daichi x reader fluff #daichi x reader smut #but again not rly #haikyuu series #daichi series #man ok so this one is sad #but like it's not????#idk it kinda made me wanna cry LOL but like it's not sad????#sentimental i guess??#also just #stories abt immigrants making a life for themselves in a new country always get me in my feels lmao #makes me think of my parents <3 #anyway #this is the end :)#i'm so so so grateful for all ur guys's support 🥺🥺🥺#this series has def not been my best work lol but i rly enjoyed writing it #and a big part of that was bc u guys were so invested and supportive 🥺💕💖💘

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a-tiny-atiny · 3 years

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I Get Deja Vu

Have you ever felt yourself falling in love? In a way, have you felt it physically manifest itself? Has your world ever felt like it’s suddenly gotten brighter and you wake up every morning excited to see that one special person in your life who made you feel that way?

Because Mingi has. In fact, he feels it stronger and stronger every day. All because of one person: Jung Wooyoung.

Mingi is a loser.

Okay, he can practically hear his friends screaming at him for even thinking that, but it’s how he truly feels. He used to have higher self-esteem when he was a kid, but it’s long gone now. He used to feel pretty neutrally about himself (maybe even a little confident), but that all changed when a classmate of his came up to him at the playground when he was nine and pointed out his small eyes and crooked teeth, and everyone else laughed.

He never thought about those parts of his face before. He really never looked at himself for more than a few minutes in the mirror while conducting his daily routine before school and before bed, but it made him wonder if he should have spent that time looking at himself more carefully.

When he thought about it, his eyes were smaller than the other kids’. He didn’t think it was a bad thing before, everyone in his family has smaller eyes, but since his classmate pointed it out and everyone laughed, it must be a bad thing. Same with his teeth.

He still looks in the mirror every morning and inspects his small eyes and crooked teeth as though staring at them for long enough will cause them to “fix” themselves into something more conventionally attractive. He doubts the classmate on the playground even remembers saying that (or remembers Mingi at all), but Mingi definitely does. It hasn’t left his mind since the day it occurred.

His best friends at the time, Yunho and Wooyoung were there to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with his appearance. “Some kids say I have weird cheeks,” he remembers a seven-year-old Yunho saying, “but my mom thinks they’re cute so I don’t really care.” Wooyoung offered a somewhat different but still comforting sentiment about the kid being a “butt-face” and a “stupid idiot,” which admittedly helped cheer Mingi up a lot.

Middle school was when a lot changed for Mingi.

On his very first day of middle school, he awoke to find his skin red and blotchy, the first sign of his to-be consistent acne problem. He was covering his face when he walked into the building, so Yunho and Wooyoung didn’t even see him at first. When they finally did, they scolded him for being dramatic and promised that no one would care if his face was a little blotchy that day.

Wooyoung seemed to have been blessed with perfect skin, because he never had a single breakout throughout middle school. Maybe he’d get a pimple here and there that he would cover with some of his mom’s foundation, but that was it. Yunho had a bit of acne too, but his parents could afford the expensive creams that made it go away instantly while Mingi’s family didn’t have the time or the money for that.

Throughout his experience in middle school, Mingi noticed three key differences in his life there than in elementary school: 1) Unlike in elementary school, it did matter what you wore.

The fact that he only had a few good shirts that were usually either a size too big or a size too small and only a few pairs of baggy jeans didn’t matter in elementary school. He could wear the same shirt and pants every day and the kids probably wouldn’t notice. In middle school, they definitely did notice.

In only his second week there, someone in his class asked why he was wearing the same shirt he wore just last week, which caught him by surprise. Was that a bad thing? He owns a laundry machine, it’s not like he’s wearing a mud-covered, dirty t-shirt or something. But his choice (or lacks thereof) in clothing brought several confused and sometimes even disgusted looks from his classmates.

This leads us to point 2) Being funny wasn’t enough to be well-liked. Admittedly, Mingi thought of his humor as basically his only talent. He’s just a pretty loud and outgoing person, so that earned him a lot of friends back in elementary school. In middle school, he was labeled the “class clown” and was viewed as a troublemaker by most of the kids, which made people want to stay away from him.

Even to this day, Mingi has a hard time being open with his thoughts and feelings because he’s worried he’ll come off as obnoxious and rude, even when he isn’t trying to be.

And finally point 3) Middle school is a lot bigger than elementary school. Normally, this wouldn’t really matter. Mingi was actually really excited at first when he heard the middle school had multiple floors that he could race to be the first one to climb. The only problem is that with a bigger school, there are more classes, and more classes mean less of a chance of him being with his friends (i.e. only Yunho and Wooyoung).

He ended up having most of his classes with Yunho but hardly any with Wooyoung except for when they could sit together at lunch.

Because of this, Mingi and Wooyoung started to drift apart a bit. Wooyoung even made a new friend named Yeosang, who Mingi genuinely liked but was afraid would replace him as Wooyoung’s best friend. Thankfully, this is not what ended up happening and all that occurred was Yeosang being added into the friend group with open arms by all parties.

It was then that Mingi started noticing something…strange.

He would get a tiny pang in his chest when Wooyoung was overly-friendly with any of the members of the friend group. This feeling didn’t occur with Yunho or Yeosang, only Wooyoung. At first, Mingi thought it was probably the feeling of missing Wooyoung because they didn’t have many classes together that year.

Mingi didn’t know what to do with this feeling. He just let it be at first because it wasn’t really bothering him that much, it was just strange. But as the years went on, it got stronger and stronger until Mingi couldn’t ignore it anymore.

In addition to this weird pang in his chest, he also started to feel a weird feeling in his stomach, kind of like when you’re at the top of a roller coaster and it’s just about to drop. That’s the kind of feeling he started to get when Wooyoung started to get, well…hot.

In high school, all four boys started to grow into their features more, but it was most evident in Wooyoung. Yeosang looked quite handsome too, but that wasn’t much of a change from middle school because he always kind of looked like a Greek god in Mingi’s eyes. Wooyoung, however, he was friends with since childhood and never really registered his features as anything other than “Wooyoung” until now. Now, they were registering as “hot.”

And that’s when Mingi started to get a feeling that something was…off. He wasn’t sure what and he wasn’t sure why, but he had never really been good with feelings to begin with so it made sense to him that it didn’t really make sense. Does that make sense?

“No,” Yunho said when Mingi tried explaining this predicament to him. “You’re going to have to give me more to work with, Mingi-yah. Maybe you miss him because you haven’t been spending as much time with him? You can text him and ask him to hang out.”

The very thought gave Mingi that weird feeling in his stomach again. He groaned and said, “Whatever, it probably isn’t a big deal anyway.” So, Yunho let it slide and so did Mingi for a while. Even if he got that weird feeling in his stomach, he just tried to ignore it.

He ignored it all the way until it became time to submit college applications.

That led Mingi to let another roadblock in the path of being a loser: he wasn’t really that good at anything in particular. His grades were fine, admittedly a bit below average, but not terrible. But they certainly weren’t enough to get into any university that Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang were planning on going to, which was his main concern.

The only good part of Mingi’s life was his friends. His life basically revolved around them, and it still does, so not being able to go to the same college as them was a terrifying thought. Which is why Mingi started studying harder than ever.

“Whatcha doing?” Wooyoung asked one day after noticing Mingi in the library after school. This was very unlike him because anyone who knows Mingi knows that he hated school and always wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Mingi jumped, seemingly not having noticed Wooyoung there before. “Oh! Um, just studying. You know, college stuff,” he explained clumsily. Why did he feel so nervous? It’s just Wooyoung, the same Wooyoung he’s known for his entire life.

“Studying? Since when did you study?” Wooyoung asked teasingly. Some people found that cheeky attitude of Wooyoung’s to be off-putting, but Mingi loved it because it fit right in with his sense of humor. That was part of the reason why they were such good friends.

“Since I needed to get into the same college you guys are going to,” Mingi said, the stress evident in his voice. This was obviously really weighing on him. “You know I can’t get into Sejong with my grades.”

Wooyoung frowned. It was true that Mingi’s grades were…on the weaker side, but he hadn’t ever considered the possibility of him not being able to get into Sejong with everyone. Going to college without Mingi was almost unthinkable. They had been together forever and Wooyoung wanted to keep it that way.

“I’ll tell you what,” Wooyoung said, taking a seat next to his friend. Mingi looked up at him with nervous eyes. To be fair, most of Wooyoung’s propositions were either very dangerous or very stupid or both. “I’ll help you study until the deadline for the application.”

Mingi’s eyes widened in shock and he was about to immediately refuse, but Wooyoung cut him off with an even more outlandish assertion: “And my parents and Yunho’s family are going to pay for your tuition.”

Now Mingi felt like sobbing, for so many reasons. Wooyoung actually wanted to help him and was willing to take time out of his incredibly busy schedule just to ensure that he had a fighting chance of going to the same university as his friends? Not to mention the fact that their families were willing to pay for his tuition? He actually felt somewhat lightheaded at the thought.

It’s true that Mingi’s parents had been relying on him getting a scholarship to be able to pay for his college education, but the chances of that occurring were seeming slimmer and slimmer when Minho’s grades failed to improve past a low B.

There were so many things he wanted to say to Wooyoung. Things like, “Are you crazy?” and, “There’s no way I can let you do that.” Maybe even, “Thank you.” But what he ended up saying instead was,

“You can’t do that.”

Instead of getting offended or even rescinding his offer (which Mingi both anticipated and feared), Wooyoung simply laughed. “Actually, I can,” he said, “and so can Yunho. You’re basically family to us and you know how much our parents like you. We’ve been saving up for this for a long time now and we were going to surprise you on your birthday, but it seemed like you needed a little extra encouragement now.”

Mingi wanted to thank Wooyoung and was practically forcing himself now to drop into a full bow, but what he did instead was equally embarrassing: he started crying. Loudly, too, and in the middle of the library.

But Wooyoung didn’t mind. He never minded. He always knew that Mingi was loud, and emotional, and a little silly, but he never minded. In fact, those were the things he was the most insecure about until Wooyoung started telling Mingi that’s what he liked most about him. He simply pulled Mingi into a hug as the boy continued to sob loudly, and stroked his back all the while.

It still isn’t exactly clear when Mingi started falling for his best friend, but if there was one moment he had to pinpoint, it would be that day in the library that he was sure he was in love with Jung Wooyoung.

#ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #song mingi #mingi #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #angst #hanahaki

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esperantoauthor · 3 years

Note

Senior year Klaine!!! Applying for colleges! (Or you could just put some headcanons of how that year would go).

Hi Jas! This ask is literally 7 months old but I have every confidence that you still remember sending it because that is kind of your thing. I finally got inspired to pick back up the scene I had written and finish this off. It was a joy to write in this universe again for a little bit; thank you for sending this in when I invited people to send in prompts for scenes from the Express Yourself Verse. Without further ado...

Title: Applying to College [bonus content for the Express Yourself Universe] Author: Esperanto Length: 1,404 words 📚 Read it on Ao3 or below 📚

“You and Kurt talk much about college?” Burt asked conversationally as he handed Blaine a tire iron.

Blaine grasped the handle of the tool. “Some. I, uh, uh, I —don’t want to influ—to effect his de-de-decision so I haven’t shared my list yet.”

“Oh.”

Mr. Hummel looked disappointed. This confused Blaine, whose own parents had given him stern lectures about not throwing away his dreams for some high school boyfriend who, statistically, wasn’t going to be his forever partner anyways. Yes, his father had research to back up his point, as always.

“It’s irresponsible to choose a college based on where your boyfriend is going,” his father had lectured him.

“But he’s the love of-of-of my life,” Blaine had countered.

“Then your relationship will be strong enough to survive a little separation.”

His mother, always with the softer touch, had added, “You are just so young, sweetie, that’s all. You don’t want to limit yourself. It’s the responsible choice.”

They had worn him down in the end. He didn’t always agree with his parents but he knew they had his best interests at heart and as much as he was loath to admit it, he was young. There was a lot he didn’t know about life. College was a big deal and he didn’t want to screw it up by making an irresponsible decision.

But now, it seemed that following his parents’ advice meant disappointing Mr. Hummel. Blaine felt like he couldn’t win.

“So, how many colleges are you applying to?”

“I’ve got, uh, five applications —submitted but I’m not d-done yet.”

Blaine hoped his answer was good enough for Mr. Hummel. What if Kurt has applied to way more? Do I seem behind? I haven’t missed any deadlines.

“Is that, uh, a lot to apply to or… what’s the usual number?” Kurt’s usually confident father looked at Blaine with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Oh, I mean it, uh, it depends but I think like —five to eight is good.”

Burt fell into a plastic lawn chair and made a frustrated grunt. “I knew it!”

“Uh, you kn-knew what?”

“That Kurt doesn’t know any more about this than I do. I thought they had guidance—that’s what they’re called, right?— counselors at that school of yours. Aren’t they supposed to tell him this kind of stuff?”

“Um, they-they-they do, b-but no one has to talk to them. I...what do you m-mean he doesn’t know any more than, uh, y-you do?” Blaine asked, feeling deeply confused. Mr. Hummel was an adult, of course he knew more than them.

“Never went.”

“I...I ne-never realized. Not-not-not that it m-matters, of course!” Blaine felt his cheeks start to flush with embarrassment. Way to assume, Blaine!

“Got a job right out of high school, did the certification course at the junior college, and then I got real lucky that my boss decided to retire and wanted to pass on the business to someone he trusted. Can you do me a favor, kiddo?”

“Of course,” Blaine replied earnestly.

“Talk to Kurt about all this college stuff. He needs your help.”

“Um, o-okay.”

“Good.”

—

Blaine wasn’t sure how to bring up the topic without being heavy-handed but an opportunity presented itself to him just a few days later.

Kurt and Rachel strode into the cafeteria with their arms linked and matching smirks of self-satisfacts plastered across their faces; it was times like these that Blaine thought they could be siblings.

Blaine leaned in to accept the cheek kiss Kurt offered and then raised an expectant eyebrow, knowing that neither Kurt nor Rachel needed much prompting to spill when they were this excited.

Tina was not as patient. “Well?”

Kurt and Rachel turned to face one another before saying in unison, “We found our college!”

“It’s called NYADA,” Kurt added, face glowing with excitement. He pressed a colorful brochure into Blaine’s hands. “Please tell me you’ll apply too, Blaine!”

“Oh, I, uh… l-let me take a… look but, I mean, I p-p-p-probably, sure.” Blaine felt a bit flustered at being asked such a big question on the spot. Kurt’s gaze softened, clearly realizing what was happening and he gave Blaine’s thigh a comforting squeeze under the table.

“The deadline isn’t for another six weeks, so there’s plenty of time. Here, you hang on to this; I have more copies.”

That night, Blaine dutifully read through the brochure and researched the school online. His boyfriend, as always, had impeccable taste; it was clearly a top notch performing arts college. But the more he read, the more worried he became

He needed to talk to Kurt.

—

“Kurt, can we, um, um, well, can we talk about… about NYADA?”

“Sure! Did you read the flyer? Isn’t it just perfection?” Kurt clapped his hands against his thighs and bit his lip in excitement. Blaine swallowed thickly, thinking about how to do this without completely taking the wind out of Kurt’s sails.

“—Totally. The list of-of-of famous alumni alone was enough to, uh, convince me. Kurt, I would—I would love to go there.”

Kurt threw his arms around Blaine’s neck and kissed his cheek. “We’re going to New York! This is going to be perfect!”

“I, uh, I hhhope so. But Kurt… did you see that-that-that they only, uh, only accept 20 st-st-st-students a year? I… I think it would be a good… a good idea to have a backup, uh, plan.”

“You don’t think I’m good enough?” Kurt sounded hurt.

Blaine quickly leaned forward, gathering Kurt’s hands in his and drawing his gaze.

“No, no, sweetie, no, of-of course I do. But… e-e-everyone gets rejected from a-a-a-at least one or-or t-two colleges, Kurt. My…my father went to Harvard Law but even he didn’t get in everywhere.”

Kurt’s nose wrinkled in concern. “He didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” Blaine confirmed. "He was re-re-re—he didn’t get in to-to Colum-Columbia. And he got a-a-a-a-a perfect score on the SAT. He’s the one who —told me how important it is to-to-to apply to several schools, including a few ssssafety choices.”

Kurt sat back in stunned silence. “I thought the hard part was choosing the school… I had no idea. How many schools have you applied to so far, Blaine?” Panic was starting to creep into Kurt’s voice.

“Um, five so far.”

“So far?” Kurt’s voice cracked on the second word and he ran his fingers through his hard, something he only did when he was highly stressed. Blaine felt a sympathetic pang in his chest. “Well, which ones? Is it too late for me to apply to them too?”

“N-no, I don’t—I don’t th-th-think the deadline has-has-has —passed for any of them yet. I, um, let me think. I… applied to CUNY, NYU, Cornell, Northwestern, and-and-and Ohio State.”

“You want to go to Ohio State?” Kurt looked mildly scandalized.

“N-n-no.”

“Then why did you apply?” Kurt asked in befuddlement.

“It’s a-a-a…it’s —called a safety, um, school. It’s just in—just in c-c-c-case I don’t, I don’t get in anywhere, um, else. I’d r-r-rather go there than-than n-nowhere, you know? —Besides, my father said you-you-you-you can al-al-al-al-always transfer after a year.”

“Oh. Well, I guess there’s no harm in that.”

Well, that could have gone a lot worse. Blaine let out a contented sigh. He had managed to talk to Kurt about this delicate topic without embarrassing him.

“I, um, I-I-I can help you with the, uh, uh, um, the, uh, the research if you want.”

“That would be amazing, actually. I’m suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by this whole thing.”

“Happy to help. It is our fu-fu-future, after all. That’s always worth p-p-p-putting in a bit of work for.”

Kurt’s worried expression melted into a fond smile.

“Th-th-th-there’s this one program, actually—“

Suddenly, Blaine was flat on his back, looking up into Kurt’s mischievous eyes.

“Tomorrow, Blaine. We can start tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans.”

Kurt didn't have to tell him twice.

#this takes place between the last chapter of love yourself and the epilogue #love yourself #gorgxoxus #asked and answered #also I heard your birthday is coming up so HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY #love yourself extras #my fic #esperanto writes #This is me trying to write something short #also I read through this maybe twice so hopefully there aren't any glaring errors #should I post this on ao3?#express yourself extras #express yourself #express yourself extra scene

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peachyproserpina · 3 years

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Wickedly Domestic - Roommates and Puppies

Now that I am back on tumblr I figured I might as well upload my John Wick x Fat!OC fic here as well. Maybe I'll find the motivation to write it as well.

TW: Alternate Universe Canon Diverence, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Sex

If I miss anything please let me know!

There is a consistent thunk, thunk, thunk of her roommates bed hitting the wall. Despite a whole floor separating them she could still hear the sounds of her roommate getting fucked into next week, literally. Usually Maria wouldn’t care that her roommates late at night shenanigans would run into the next morning but, there was more at stake on the agenda today than usual. Maria pressed her pillow over her ears and looked at her phone; it was almost 4 am Monday morning.

There was a meeting in downtown New York that she had to attend, which the commute was a little more intense then she usually had to deal with. Living and working in a suburb outside of New York City allowed for a stress and traffic free drive to work, usually 15 minutes or less, but driving into the city always was a hassle, that drive tends to be close to an hour. Maria rubbed at her eyes and unlocked her phone, she still had 3 hours before she had to be downtown. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, this meeting was with the CEO. Those kinds of meetings either ended up in promotion or termination, she buried her face into her pillow. She could still hear the thunk and a few giggles from her roommate and company. Considering she was already up and too anxious to go back to bed she might as well get her workout in now instead of later.

Heaving herself up and out of bed with a groan she let out a yawn before looking around for her workout clothes. Pulling on her leggings and finding a clean shirt she fished around her room for her headphones. Despite living in New York state for a little over 3 months now she still hasn’t completely unpacked. Moving boxes were still stacked around the room and there was a stack of art needing to be hung up.

She wasn’t planning on moving when she did, the roommate who was busy getting fucked, offered her a place to stay. All she had to do was pay utilities and cook for the house once a week. The home had been a surprise to her roommate Cooper. An estranged great Aunt had willed it over to her, Cooper was already living in New York, and the full ride she received was barely enough to cover the dorm she had to split with 2 other people. When she was contacted by lawyers telling her she is now a proud homeowner and didn’t have to worry about student loans for the rest of her life.

One of the first things she did was reach out to Maria. Cooper was well aware of the tension at home, brewing in Maria’s family since they met in high-school. Unfortunately she had first hand seen more tear stained faces and frustration that Maria was put through. They spoke often and were close, promising to push each other to do amazing things. Sometimes amazing things means moving across the country but their love and friendship didn’t diminish over the distance. So offering the room

All Maria had to do was fund the move and drive 30 hours across the country. Dying to get out of the town she has spent her whole life, as well as always loving the east coast, she packed up, put in her two weeks at her current job and submitted an application to anywhere within a 10 mile radius of her new address. She thanked the stars when a local bank picked up her application and allowed for Skype and phone interviews, giving her the job before she even moved out there. She was introduced to her coworkers through a group chat and she fell into her role easily before she even met them in person.

The hardest part had been leaving old friends, leaving her family on the other hand had been a blessing. Her father and his side of the family had always been hard to please and any relationship with them over the last couple of years had been more of a formality than anything else. Her mother was a different story, tears were shed and a few fights were had due to this hasty decision on moving across the country. Maria’s mother had always wanted more for her daughter than what she currently had but packing up and leaving across the country in less than a month gave her mother bad feelings. Her mother backed off and gave Maria her blessing once she got her job, knowing how stubborn her daughter is once she puts her mind to something.

Her siblings had felt the same way, constant calls and texts were exchanged during the long drive while everyone was proud and knew she would be better for the move. It still hurt, promising to visit during holidays and letting them stay over if they ever visited. But it was like ripping off a bandaid. It had to be done or else it festers and could lead to infection, staying stagnant had been driving her crazy.

Once changed and headphones found under some papers she had been reviewing at her desk, she slid them over her ears and made her way upstairs, closing the door and making sure it was locked behind her. Her cat had the habit of running outside and getting lost or turning up at the local shelter and the last thing she needed was to also be worrying about her cat while she was working in the city.

She jogged down to the gate and opened it before she got into her car and made her way to the nature preserve just a few minutes away from her home. She could have ran there but she wasn’t quite ready to commit to the workout while the air was so chilly. By the time she has parked and started her stretches the world had started to wake up around her, birds chirping and the distant sounds of honking while she tried to figure out what playlist she wanted to run to. Deciding on something beat heavy she started down the trail that would lead over the swamp, it had been a while since she had run outside, usually opting to do her cardio in a class setting or on a treadmill while she binges whatever series she is watching on Netflix at the moment.

She was only half a mile in the trail before she had to stop for a moment. Her “ultra support” sports bra did not help as much as she hoped, having big tits was a blessing and a curse. They made working out hell on earth but it got her more free drinks at the bar then she would like to admit. But it also kept her from being able to run as much as she would like to before she has to stop and readjust.

She pulled out her phone and checked the time, quarter past 5 am, she still had time. She could do a mile before she went home and showered and get ready for a grueling day. She paused her music, taking deep breaths before she started up again, she thought she heard rustling behind her. Which despite being close to the city the swamp held more wildlife than she thought it would. She sat and listened, chancing a glance behind her. The sun was nearly up but running by herself in public always put her on edge. There was always the chance of someone grabbing her and doing whatever they would like to her, she shuddered and unlocked her phone, sending her location and a text as to when she would be back to the roommate group chat. Just in case she were to get snatched up at least her roommates would know where she was last.

She started up again, turning her music up all the way to drown out her heavy breathing and the sound of her feet hitting the trail. It wasn’t until she was almost across one of the many bridges in the nature preserve stretching her calf muscles when she felt something warm and slimy against the skin of her leg. She screamed and pulled her head phones off, looking down to see if she had unknowingly picked up a slug or if some creep had managed to sneak up on her. Letting out a sigh when she saw it was a small Beagle, whining and licking at her leg. She crouched down pet the dog who was whining at her feet.

“Hey baby, where are your parents?” She picked up the dog and looked it over, she saw a name tag, “Daisy- that’s a cute name. Matches my tattoo,” she flipped over the name tag and saw an address, thankful she wouldn't have to drop the dog off at home and try to find her owners later. Daisy fell asleep in her arms while she walked the pup back to her car, the thought on finishing her run gone from her mind. Once the dog was rested safely in her front seat and plugged the address into her phone. It was a quick drive back to the owners house thankfully, it was getting dangerously close to 6 am but she couldn’t not take the sleepy baby home.

She knew if her cat went missing longer than usual or her roommates dog she would be worried sick. No parent should be worried about their baby, that was the biggest motivator for her as she snaked through the neighborhood following her GPS until she pulled up to one of the biggest houses she had ever seen. She knew she lived in affluent part of the state but pulling up the gravel driveway of what was basically a mansion she started to sweat. The bouncing of her car woke the puppy up, who was happily wagging her tail, grateful to be home after wandering away in the early morning. Maria smiled, happy that the pup was glad to be home.

“Lets go baby, let's get you back home.” Daisy ran up the door and pawed at it. Maria knocked and waited a moment, when she didn’t hear any movement in the house she rang the doorbell. Daisy was sitting by her feet waiting patiently for the door to open, it felt like hours while she stood in the massive door hoping someone was home to take the pup in. In reality It had probably been only 5 or so minutes, she chanced a glance around the driveway and didn’t see a car. Figuring that whoever would have been home was gone she turned and started walking back to her car, calling for Daisy, she could take her home and try again after work. Knowing her roommates would be sympathetic to the lost puppy and take care of her until she could try again. It was then she heard the large door open. She turned and nearly lost her balance when she caught a glance at the man who opened the door.

#peachy writes #wickedly domestic #john wick x oc #john wick fic #slow burn #I hope yall like this #it's been my baby for years #im getting to the smut promise

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blarfkey · 3 years

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Writing Tag Game

I've been tagged by like ten people for this so thank you everyone who tagged me! @redinkofshame, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @kunstpause Consider yourself tagged if you see it and like it.

How many works do you have on Ao3?

38!

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

702,253. I would love for it to be more but I am a slow writer lol

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Woodstock 83 --3480 Kudos

Xmen fic set after Apocalypse where Peter keeps getting these golden opportunities to tell Magneto/Erik that he's his son, and keeps chickening out at the last minute.

I know I wasn't the only one who walked out of that movie theater pissed that Peter came so close to admitting this secret since the previous movie and never did, so I wrote a fix it.

2. The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes -- 2567 Kudos

The sequel to Woodstock 83, told in Magneto's POV where he's coming to terms with being a father while he cares for his sick son. This is probably my fav X-Men fic I've ever written because I loved having these two figure out what their father/son relationship would be like long after Peter has grown up and how Erik has wanted a child again but doesn't know how to process having one.

3. Jail Break -- 2488 kudos

The first Peter & Magneto fic I ever wrote and the first fic I ever published! This takes place post Days of Future Past and it shows how Magneto could have found out that Peter was his son and build that reluctant connection. Peter has a lot of freaking out about whether or not he wants to accept a supervillain as his father.

4. Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right -- 2396 Kudos

The third part of the series Jail Break Started. For some reason this is the most popular one shot in the series. In it, Peter has a huge fight with Magneto and then gets kidnapped by The Bad Guys and doesn't think his dad will come bail him out. But of course he does! And murders everyone in the compound to do it.

5. Two Lonely Souls in a Fish Bowl -- 2361 Kudos

The direct sequel to Jail Break where Magneto keeps showing up in the dead of night to visit Peter as they both figure out how they want this weird parent relationship to be.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Even if it takes me a while. I love the interaction and I want people to feel noticed and appreciated.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um, i don't really like angst. I think it would be Spark Me Up for Xmen. Professor X/Magneto angst with my first ever written smut. It was a remix of another person's fic for an exchange and they had an angsty ending so I kept it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The last installment in the Jail Break/Come Together Series -- Shine On You Crazy Diamond. In it, Peter's little sister Wanda comes into her powers and they go through a lot of pain before she settles into them. It ends with Peter's mom coming to stay with them and her, Peter, Wanda, Erik, and Charles becoming one big family. I've had several people tell me it made them cry lol.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I'll write something like a set of characters from one fandom in the set up/premise of another fandom/piece of media. Like Dear Fen'harel is a crossover of Dragon Age with an old book called Dear Daddy Long Legs. But I don't combine different universes of different fandoms, it's too weird for me and I can't buy into it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

took over and finished. We have an AU in our plans but so many other fics keep getting in the way! Sort of? I wrote the first part of a Solas/Maria/Varric series that@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did receive a weird, angry message on one of my Xmen fics because they didn't like a fight that had happened between two characters but didn't read till the end to see it resolved so the bitched at me for the fact that the fight was mean? Which made no sense. But other than that, nope.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Though it's not as much as my non-smut. I didn't write smut for so many years because I didn't think I knew how. I tried to write some out a few years ago and kept it to myself until one of my tumblr friends read it and said it was really good! So shout out to @salexectria, you're the reason why I write and publish smut!

I write all kinds of smut, from dub con to vanilla, from f/f, m/m, and ace spectrum characters. Its all about the characters and what would fit them/the situation more than it is about a specific type of sex.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I don't know about it.

What's your all time favourite ship?

Ummmmmm, that's hard. I don't think I have an all time favorite. I will say that Charles/Erik (Professor X/Magneto) was my first ever "otp" that I got completely obsessed with. Actually, I have never been that obsessed with another pairing. I write pairings that I enjoy or that I want to see a certain dynamic from, but that doesn't make them my favorite above all others.

I do really love Solas/Cadash and I prefer Solas rare pairs like Solas/Dorian, Solas/Cassandra, and Solas/Josephine over Solavellan.

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I will never not finish a WIP. I hate it when it happens, even though I know IRL gets in the way, but it's so frustrating for me as a reader. So I will finish all my fics. However, I am very slow and very busy so it may take a while.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and character voice. I also am really good at developing friendships and platonic bonds or the slow burn get-to-know-you part of a romance. Apparently I write good smut, though its very hard for me lol.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and transitions and pacing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

The only thing that bothers me is if they never put in a translations somewhere and you have to just kind of guess. I don't care about reading something in another language and having a footnote or a note at the end of the chapter. I do it all the time in DF. I do think that putting "said in {insert language here}" is a bit of a cop out.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The first ever fandom I wrote for and never published was Harry Potter at 13. I wrote a story about a muggle neighbor who had to emergency babysit the baby Weasleys and was shocked by the magic. But I tried to submit it to a website that only published fic by application and it didn't get in and I was like "whatever, I'll just read fic" and then didn't touch fanfic again until I was . . .24 or 25 lol. I mostly focused on my original fiction.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I can't possibly have one favorite. I do really love my Peter fics, especially The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes. I love my ACO fic with Apollo!Alkibiades. I love my Solas/Cassandra friendship fic Time Does Not Bring Relief. And I love Dear Fen'harel, of course, because it has so many things I wanted to change for Solavellan or didn't find, as well as a good analysis of myself and how I deal with anger and sorrow and homesickness, ect. through Ellana.

#asks #fanfic #writing #dear fenharel

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samanthalendo · 3 years

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Why I Almost Went To UT Austin; And Why I Didn’t

(As a preface: I will be speaking mainly in vague details about my personal life and the college I ended up choosing. This is for my own privacy and comfort. In addition, I am not bashing the UT system or anyone who choose to go there; I have loved ones going there very soon, and I have a lot admiration for the school and all the opportunities it can afford someone. However, these are the reasons I will not be attending and some reasons any school might miss out on students they might have otherwise garnered. As well, all photos are mine unless otherwise stated. Enjoy!)

Let me set the scene.

Choosing a college is hard. It’s freakin hard. It’s even more difficult in the middle of a global pandemic. You can’t actually go anywhere, can’t take tours or go to fairs or get a feel for the city you want to call home. I struggled a lot with really connecting to any of the schools I was interested in. Lots of apathy towards the whole process. Despite all this, I had one school I had been interested in since the end of sophomore year, and I thought that was the only place I wanted to go.

The University of Texas at Austin appealed to me for a few different reasons. In no particular order:

It was close to family.

I have tons, and I mean tons of family in Texas. This would have put me significantly closer to them and meant I had a support system when going to college. Making sure I would have a nice warm dinner and bath to escape to on crappy days seems pretty nice during global pandemics! Notably, however, it was not close to my immediate family.

It was in a big city.

Looking back I can laugh at myself and the idea I had for my college experience. At the time I was much more focused on the social and Instagramable side of the school I chose. Any time my parents suggested a school, the first thing I did was look for photos of it. If it didn’t have the feel I was looking for (young, new, hip, growing) I seldom looked further.

Austin was exactly what I was looking for. A city with a 32.4% growth rate in the last decade (1), it screamed new and exciting. I wanted to be apart of that vibe during college, especially when I thought my boyfriend and I would be going to the same place (we are still happily together and just going to different schools, btw). Anything less didn’t seem worth it or fun enough.

It’s a high ranking journalism school.

Rankings are subjective so it absolutely depends on where you look, but UT Austin consistently ranks within the top ten journalism schools in the nation, which is incredible. I’ve wanted to study journalism since about sophomore year and I was so excited that on top of the aforementioned attributes, this would be a reputable place to study and get a degree from. Truth be told, I didn’t do nearly any research into the actual programs, opportunities, or benefits UTA offered, #foreshadowing.

UTA was the first school I applied to, and as such it established my expectations for how applying to a big name school would work. Let me just say it, the application process sucked. I ended up writing two full-length essays, only one of which I used and extensively edited, and at least five different short answer paragraphs. I believe I also had to submit a resume when I applied for the Journalism Honors program, though that was additional. It was intense, and quite honestly didn’t seem worth it. Up until this point I was pretty much riding the wave of, “Yeah, UT Austin, that’s a school people will respond positively to when they ask where I’m going.” As aforementioned, I hadn’t done any in-depth research into what programs UT had to offer me, but from what little looking I had done, nothing was jumping out at me. With nothing spectacular being shown to me on a silver platter, enticing me to #golonghorns, the arduous application process felt taxing and stressful.

(A little side note on writing college essays: do not force yourself to write about something that doesn’t feel genuine to you. I don’t care if you think you have something that they’re bound to notice or admire; if you’re not passionate about it, you won’t get anywhere. As mentioned, I wrote two different essays when applying to UT. In my first essay, I wrote about leadership experiences in high school and how they shaped me. Important? Yes. Influential for me? Absolutely. But nothing I’m ready to rave about to anyone who walks through the door. That essay felt fake and artificial. I knew I didn’t like it or want it to represent me. So, I sat down and started writing about a situation that happened over the summer at my high school, one that really ground my gears. I couldn’t stop talking about how upset I was. I wrote all about the experience and how it made me want to be a better journalist and to always help to portray the truth. If anyone would like to know more about that story, let me know. The point is, I was passionate about the topic and it made it much easier to write believably. I didn’t just need this piece to represent me, I wanted it to represent me. I wanted the application readers to understand my frustration and feel all the emotions I felt in those moments. Pick something you feel that way about.)

I’m not going to BS and say that the application process will be fun if the school you’re applying to is the right one for you. All I’m saying is it should feel worth it, like all this hard work and effort is really going to culminate into your dream school. I definitely didn’t feel that with UTA, which was one of my first red flags. I felt very disconnected from the school, like I was just another fish in the pond of out of state applicants, hoping they’d like my bright colors over the next.

A little background: I am, for the purposes of Texas schools, an out-of-state applicant. I don’t have residency in TX and I didn’t go to a public high school in TX, and this contributes heavily to UTA admissions. I’ll link a great article going further in-depth on the admissions numbers and percentages, but due to the advantages granted to TX resident applicants, approximately only 9% of UTA students are out of state (2). That number is so low because TX students in the top 6% of their graduating class, no matter their test scores, are automatically accepted. This means that on top of great grades, out-of-state applicants for UTA have ACT scores that are between 3-5 points higher and SAT scores that are about 150 points higher than their average TX counterpart.

If you aren’t stressed out just reading that, teach me your ways because I was sure was.

This was sort of where the perceived animosity started between myself and UTA. I constantly checked my email and mailbox, hoping to get a letter or promotional email or something to indicate they were interested in me as a student. Seldom did they ever come. I got hundreds of emails from other schools and received nearly as much snail mail, but hardly ever from UT, even after I asked to receive their newsletters and an informational packet (which never came, BTW).

I quickly came to realize that all of this was likely due to the fact that I was so far away, out of the UT sphere of control or influence. Most of the emails I received were from schools in my neighboring states or in my state, closer with a higher likelihood of recruiting me. A school in TX, where I did not study or hold residency, would not seek me out.

Here’s my issue. They didn’t have to seek me out. That’s fine, whatever, makes sense. But I sought them out. I signed up for everything. I filled out their long application, sent it in early. I tried to tour the school in the throws of COVID, having to settle for a self-paced walk about an empty campus to satisfy my need to know more about this school, to learn more about what it could offer me. None of my efforts proved fruitful, and it didn’t feel like the school really wanted me there. I wondered whether this was really where I wanted to be.

By mid-November, while I wouldn’t have called myself discouraged, I would definitely have identified with the word antsy. When I sent in my application in September, they notified me that I would get my answer sometime in January or February. I can’t even explain how far away that felt. Especially being out of state, I wanted to know their decision as quickly as possible. The wait felt like an eternity.

My dad has always stressed the importance of not putting all your eggs in one basket. While I had shot my shot with UT and was waiting for the scoreboard to change, he was still exploring other options I had in the world of journalism schools. Without me knowing or really agreeing, he scheduled a tour with a school about two hours away from where we lived. It would be on a Saturday, just the two of us, and we’d make a day trip out of it. Honestly, I was more excited for the trip than the school itself. It had always been one I had turned my nose up at; to be fair, I did that with almost any school that wasn’t UT.

We were about five minutes late to the opening presentation at the school. Quickly shuffling into the only seats we saw, some in the very front row of the socially distanced conference hall, we settled in for a lot of new information coming our way. Though he had planned it, my dad didn’t know that much about the school either. We were both skeptical, a bit frazzled, and tired from having woken up around five o’clock that morning.

But with every slide, every question, every time the presenter opened her mouth, we were drawn further in.

It wasn’t just the feel of the school, or the location, or the looks. The facts didn’t lie. I won’t share too many so as to keep at least some privacy, but to say this school was my diamond in the rough wouldn’t be too much of an overstatement. Despite that, throughout the day and our two guided tours, I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, keeping me from getting too excited about this new school. I couldn’t help but think about UT and all of the emotional commitment I had already made to it. How excited my family was that I was hoping to go there, how happy my grandmother was that I would be closer to her. I thought of the teachers I had complained to about the long essays, the people who had edited those essays for me. I thought about the burnt orange hoodie sitting in my closet, towards the front due to how often I wore it.

The new school won over both my heart and my head. While I really felt at home there, I also would have to have been dead to overlook all of the opportunities it could afford me. I was close to my immediate family and the town I had gone to high school in. I could come home often, visit family and friends more frequently than if I moved states away. Everything seemed right.

In between our tours, due to the nagging I was feeling, I tried to schedule a tour with UTA, to at least give it a fighting chance. I figured, had I not had an in-person tour of this new school, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Maybe a real tour would make me fall in love with UT again. However, when I tried to schedule one, all of the tours for the rest of the semester were completely booked, and the calendar wasn’t yet available for the spring semester. I immediately called to find out more, only to be told that they weren’t sure the state of in-person tours upon return to campus after holidays due to COVID. Looking back, I know it was a sign. UT had, for all intents and purposes, closed its doors on me. It was time I accepted the willing arms of the school I gazed upon with wonder, truly in limbo as to what might happen next.

By the end of December, I was admitted and had committed to the new school. I wouldn’t find out about UT for another month, but honestly, I didn’t really need to. This new school had everything I could ever want, and UT had a fair amount of drawbacks. I didn’t and still don’t feel any remorse for committing without having known UT’s decision on me.

I received an email January 29th, over a month after having committed to the new school, that I needed to check my UT MyStatus page. I never really worried about getting in due to my test scores and grades, but I felt a level of anger towards the school that I thought I had gotten over, and finding out I had gotten in after all would bring up new emotions. I checked the page, and sure enough I had been admitted to the University of Texas at Austin’s class of 2025. I wasn’t elated or jumping up and down with joy or breaking down happy crying in my parent’s arms. I was pretty stoic, thinking about all that could have been had I felt any more like UT really wanted me.

(3)

All things happen for a reason. Because I didn’t feel much reciprocation in my love for UT, I instead found the school of my dreams, one that I know I’ll be much happier at. I wouldn’t change any of my decisions, except maybe stressing over the essays as much as I did.

My final thoughts would have to be this: I don’t blame the UT system for not focusing as much on its out-of-state applicants. I mean, I do, but I understand that it’s often simply not in their best interest. I do think that they should have reached out, sent more newsletters, have actually sent me the information packet I requested, anything to make me feel more connected with this place I was dying to call home. While I know they aren’t very focused on bringing in students from other states, I think they should be, especially for those that are going the extra mile to reach out to them.

The right school will have a lot of different things for every different person. For me, that meant being close to my immediate family, knowing I would have all of the opportunities I wanted, being financially secure, and feeling like the school wanted me, not just the other way around. UT didn’t provide me all of that. Finding the school that will is the most important thing. Your needs and wants may be different, but don’t toss all of your eggs in one basket. Don’t be afraid to change your mind and always keep looking for something better. For all you know, it may be out there.

(Thank you so much for reading! Links are below. This is just meant to be an opinion piece and is the first thing I’ve written for myself in a very long time. I hope you learned something and that this may be helpful on your college journey! Au revoir!)

1. https://www.austinchamber.com/economic-development/austin-profile/population/overview

2. https://magoosh.com/hs/college-admissions/ut-austin-admissions-the-sat-act-scores-and-gpa-you-need-to-get-in/

3. https://news.utexas.edu/2020/09/22/four-year-graduation-rate-tops-70-as-ut-austin-admits-one-of-its-largest-first-year-classes/

#ut austin #university of texas #texas #college #journalism #photography #uta #university of texas at austin #university #admissions #ut2025 #2025 #bell tower #writing #opinion #samanthalendo

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psychologyofsex · 3 years

Text

The True Story of How I Became a Sex Educator and Researcher

Our professional biographies tend to serve as a “highlight reel”—they only say the great things we’ve accomplished and don’t reveal the struggles, challenges, and uncertainties that went into building a career. To lift back the curtain on this, the Society for Personality and Social Psychology (SPSP) recently asked a number of scholars to submit their official bios along with their “unofficial bios” that reveal an extremely different version of the story with more twists and turns.

You can read some of the examples here. Although I didn’t participate in it, I thought it would be fun to do something similar on the blog. So here goes—I’ll start with my official bio, followed by the real, behind-the-scenes story.

Official Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

Dr. Justin Lehmiller received his Ph.D. in Social Psychology from Purdue University. He is a Research Fellow at The Kinsey Institute and author of the book Tell Me What You Want: The Science of Sexual Desire and How It Can Help You Improve Your Sex Life. Dr. Lehmiller is an award-winning educator, having been honored three times with the Certificate of Teaching Excellence from Harvard University, where he taught for several years. He is also a prolific researcher and scholar who has published more than 50 academic works to date, including a textbook titled The Psychology of Human Sexuality (now in its second edition) that is used in college classrooms around the world. Dr. Lehmiller's studies have appeared in all of the leading journals on human sexuality, including the Journal of Sex Research, Archives of Sexual Behavior, and The Journal of Sexual Medicine.

Dr. Lehmiller has run the popular blog Sex and Psychology since 2011. It receives millions of page views per year and is rated among the top sex blogs on the internet. In 2019, he launched the Sex and Psychology Podcast. It ranks among the top sexuality podcasts in several countries and has been named one of “11 sex podcasts that will help you get better in bed” by Men’s Health.

Dr. Lehmiller has been interviewed by numerous media outlets, including The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Boston Globe, CNN, The Atlantic, The Globe and Mail, and The Sunday Times. He has been named one of 5 "Sexperts" You Need to Follow on Twitter by Men's Health and one of the "modern-day masters of sex" by Nerve. Dr. Lehmiller has appeared on the Netflix series Sex, Explained, he has been on several episodes of the television program Taboo on the National Geographic Channel, and he has been a guest on Dr. Phil. Dr. Lehmiller has also appeared on numerous podcasts and radio shows, including the Savage Lovecast, the BBC’s Up All Night, and several NPR programs (1A, Radio Times, and Airtalk).

He is a popular freelance writer, penning columns and op-eds for major publications, including The Washington Post, Playboy, USA Today, VICE, Psychology Today, Men’s Health, Politico, and New York Magazine. He has also interviewed several prominent authors, journalists, and psychologists about their work for his blog and podcast, including Dr. Sanjay Gupta, Lisa Ling, Drs. John and Julie Gottman, and bestselling authors Christopher Ryan (Sex at Dawn) and Lisa Taddeo (Three Women).

Unofficial Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

When Justin’s parents asked him what he wanted to study in college, he said “psychology.” He had taken a couple of psychology courses in high school that he found to be absolutely fascinating; however, his parents discouraged him from this because getting into a PhD program was tough and uncertain and, if that didn’t work out, they didn’t see much potential in a Bachelor’s degree in psychology. They encouraged him to pursue a career in occupational therapy (OT) instead because a family friend said “they needed more men in the field,” and also because his parents saw it as a path to job security with a pretty good paycheck.

He applied to a 5-year combined Bachelor’s/Master’s program in OT at Gannon University and was admitted. Incidentally, he was one of two men in the entire program. He spent a year and a half in it and made straight As in every course, including biochemistry and physics—but he wasn’t happy. He recognized the importance of OT to society, but it wasn’t his passion. After showing his parents that he was taking college seriously and earning good grades, they allowed him to switch his major to psychology.

Upon completing his Bachelor’s degree, he only applied to Master’s programs in psychology because he didn’t think he had the chops to get into a PhD program right away. The inferiority complex was strong in this one, so he didn’t even try. He applied and was accepted to Villanova University’s Master’s program in experimental psychology. He was not competitive enough of a candidate to receive an assistantship initially, although he eventually received one after another student dropped out.

He really wanted to study social psychology at Villanova, but there was only one social psychologist on staff at the time and several interested students. The only option for him was to beg one of the clinical psychologists to let him do a social psychology study for his Master’s thesis.

As he began looking for PhD programs to apply to, he met Dr. Chris Agnew at a meeting of the American Psychological Association. Chris was studying romantic relationships and Justin thought that sounded like a fun thing to spend his life doing. Plus, Chris was a super cool guy who seemed like a fantastic mentor. He applied and was admitted to Purdue’s social psychology program, although he was initially waitlisted (and rejected from all but one other program). Justin’s plan was to get his doctorate and become a college professor. Teaching and research sounded like things he could probably do.

Justin was assigned to teach a Health Psychology course at Purdue during his first year. He had never taught a class before and quickly realized that he was very uncomfortable with public speaking. The class was a disaster. Attendance dropped 60-70% within the first couple of weeks. He had no idea what he was doing and dreaded going to class each day—and he received poor evaluations in the end.

Around the same time, Justin submitted his first academic paper to a journal, it was promptly rejected and came with this review: “This manuscript is fatally flawed and of marginal utility, which is a shame because potentially interesting questions could have been asked given the topic and timing of the research. The tone of this manuscript represents the worst in scientific misconstrual, particularly because the claims are silly, wrong, or not warranted by the data.” Justin clearly sucked at both teaching and research—and if he couldn’t do those things well, how would he ever become a college professor?

He also started hearing horror stories from advanced students in his program who couldn’t find jobs and were sticking around for 6 or 7 years in the hope of eventually landing a job—any job. All of this led Justin to question what the hell he was doing with his life. Maybe he should have listened to his parents after all? Chris encouraged Justin to stick with it, though, as did his friends and mentors.

The next year, Justin got assigned to be a teaching assistant for a human sexuality course taught by Dr. Janice Kelly. It changed his life. He had to lead weekly discussion sections with students and answer their sex questions (a subject he knew next to nothing about, having attended Catholic schools most of his life). He read about sex extensively and instantly knew he had found what he really wanted to do with his career. He saw it as something fun and interesting—but also a way that he could make a real difference. He realized how little most people actually know about sex, and how education can correct so many harmful myths and misconceptions.

An opportunity to teach his own human sexuality class opened up the following year, and he took it. This time around, teaching was different—he was passionate about the subject and the students were, too. He had no problems with attendance. He ended up teaching this course six times before he graduated and eventually received a teaching award for it. He found that he loved being a sex educator.

He also found a solution to his public speaking anxiety: he started taking a beta-blocker (propranolol) on public speaking days, which removed physiological symptoms of anxiety. This allowed him to feel like himself in front of a crowd and, after just a few months, he no longer needed to take the medication—the anxiety had gone away completely.

He started conducting his own sex research, too, including a series of studies with Dr. Kelly on friends with benefits. His research skills improved and his studies started getting accepted instead of rejected.

He eventually landed a job at Colorado State University as an assistant professor, where he stayed for three years and continued his work as a sex educator and researcher. His partner couldn’t get a job in the area and had just taken a job in Boston, so Justin applied for every academic job within two hours of Boston. He was turned down for all of them. As a last-ditch effort, he applied for a teaching position at Harvard but had absolutely no confidence in it. He almost didn’t submit the application, but his partner encouraged him to do so. Justin had applied to Harvard’s PhD program previously and was rejected—if they didn’t want him as a student, why the heck would they want him as a teacher?

To his great surprise, he got the job at Harvard, where he stayed for three years. However, he had given up his tenure-track job in Colorado for a teaching position in Boston with no job security. So he decided to reinvent himself just in case things didn’t work out. In his spare time, he started a blog, wrote a human sexuality textbook, and became a freelance media writer. Communicating about sex science to the public became his hobby and was going to be his backup career in case the college professor thing didn’t work out.

Eventually, Justin’s partner wanted to move to Indianapolis for a job opportunity, so they left Boston. But Justin didn’t have a job at first and his backup plan wasn’t yet enough to be a full-time job. He knew the Kinsey Institute was nearby, so he drafted a letter to the director in the hope of establishing a connection, but he never sent it. He had a severe case of imposter syndrome and did not feel accomplished or experienced enough to have anything to do with what he saw as the premier hub for sex research in the world.

Much to his surprise, the associate director of the Institute reached out to him after he moved to Indiana to explore opportunities for working together. It was actually his hobby/backup plan that caught their eye—they were interested in working together to disseminate sex science to the public and were impressed with what he had done with his blog and social media.

Justin affiliated with Kinsey, but also jumped back on the tenure track with a job as the Director of the Social Psychology Program at Ball State University, which fortuitously opened up about 4 months after he moved to Indianapolis. After 3.5 years, he decided to leave full-time academics and do his own thing. His science communication hobby had managed to grow into a full-time job and it was no longer feasible to do that and academics. Plus, he found that the science communication work was really where his passion was. So, the backup plan officially became “the plan.”

Justin now spends every day finding new ways to help educate and inform the public about the science of sex. He’s still not sure how things ended up this way, but wouldn’t trade his current job for anything.

Want to learn more about Sex and Psychology? Click here for more from the blog or here to listen to the podcast. Follow Sex and Psychology on Facebook, Twitter (@JustinLehmiller), or Reddit to receive updates. You can also follow Dr. Lehmiller on YouTube and Instagram.

Image Source: 123RF

You Might Also Like:

How Do You Become a Sex Researcher?

So You Want To Be A Science Blogger? Here’s What You Need To Know

Sex Question Friday: What Is A Sexologist And How Do I Become One?

#sex education #sex research

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

My homophobic English teacher...

I saw a post on here recently about someone's horrible English teacher, and it reminded me of my own experience. TL;DR at the bottom. Doing this requires a quick lesson on the Australian high school system (I'll keep it short, don't worry). Basically, there are 6 years of Australian high school, from grades 7 through to 12. 7-10 are prep years where your grades don't carry over, then grades 11 and 12 are your big bad years with huge exams similar to the American system. When entering grade 11, you get to choose whether you want to pursue a path to university- doing this requires you to do ATAR subjects, which are the hardest subjects available. Your final grade in your last year is what universities use to decide if you get in. Basically, you have one year to really make it count. Grade 12 is the year to finally show off everything you've learned after your whole life at school. It's basically do or die, the hardest year of your life.

So, to begin this story, let me explain that I am good at English. Like, really good at English. I won awards and got accepted into state recognised programs for how good I am at English. It was the one subject I could guarantee to get an A in. So, naturally, I chose ATAR level English- I'd always wanted to get into some kind of English based university course. When I entered my grade 12 class I was greeted by my teacher, who we can call Mrs Slug, since she looked like a fat slimy slug. This was the kind of teacher that just handed out worksheets and sat behind her desk for the class and didn't actually teach. It was frustrating since this was my final year and I wanted my grades to be as good as possible, but I was confident in my ability to just pick it up on my own, so I didn't complain about it.

Then it came time for the first assessment. It was a creative writing piece, and short stories are my shit, so I wrote a short story. I followed the marking key carefully while also adding my own flare to the story to make it really entertaining and thought-provoking. The story was basically a dark romance told in first person, where the gender of the perspective character wasn't revealed until right at the end, thus revealing the couple to be gay. I specifically kept the main character's gender ambiguous until that point, since I wanted the reader to assume it was a girl then have a shock at the reveal. I contacted some of my friends from my high-level English programs and they all loved it. So I happily submitted it. I didn't think too much of it- I was interested to see how my ability held up in the highest level of school, but I wasn't expecting anything below a B. Then I got my result back.

Failed.

I couldn't believe it. I was genuinely confused. There were absolutely no marks on my paper, no red pen, no details as to why I failed, just a big fat 8/20 on the back of my paper. I was really upset, obviously, since I'd worked hard on it and it was the first time I'd failed an English assignment ever. I went to Mrs Slug and asked her what was wrong with it. She fluffed around and gave me an answer that essentially boiled down to, "I didn't like it." That was it. She had no reason to fail the story, she just didn't like it. News flash, that's not how marking creative writing works. If it'd been any other year, maybe I would've just blown it off and moved on, but this was grade 12. This failure could be the difference between getting into university and getting rejected.

So I went to the head of the English department at my school and requested a regrading. I didn't tell him that I'd failed it, just that I wanted more feedback. He gave it back to me as an 18/20. I then slammed my failing grade onto the desk and asked him to explain. Clearly, Mrs Slug stood by her grade, because instead of just changing my mark, they sent my writing to the top school in the state to get remarked again. It came back 19/20. Needless to say, my mark was changed to an A.

The next few assignments went relatively the same. Even when she passed me, I asked to be reassessed and my mark was always made higher than what she'd given me. Eventually, I complained enough times that they started rotating which teacher marked my work so no one could sabotage it. Even still, I always knew when Mrs Slug had been the one to mark it, because there was never any feedback on it, just a barely above average mark that eventually was changed to an A. I didn't get below 80% on any assignments for the entire year, and bare in mind, she hadn't taught anything in her class. I basically taught everyone myself and did the work at home so my peers also wanting to get into university had a shot (most of them did get in, can I add). I didn't understand why Mrs Slug didn't like my story (or me) until one day a discussion on politics came up in my class.

She's very, very right wing. A Donald Trump supporter. In Australia, that's super rare, since most of us think he's a dickhead. It suddenly hit me then. She didn't like my story because I'd done exactly what I'd wanted. She'd assumed the main character was a girl, then when it was revealed he was a guy and it was a gay relationship, she suddenly realised she'd happily been reading and enjoying a story about a gay couple. That must've infuriated her. She failed it for no reason other than her homophobia. After I realised that, I started to mess with her.

My first project was to test Donald Trump's persuasion tactics on her. My next oral presentation, I specifically used Donald Trump's speech style- the way he repeats words, over exaggerates, dehumanises, etc. I know she was the one who marked it (again, no feedback), but this time it was a 19/20. That was the highest mark she gave me all year. I couldn't believe it. The Donald had been right.

Next, I wrote a strongly worded, very opinionated article on how I was bisexual. This was the first time I'd touched LGBT topics since that first story, and I knew it would infuriate her. But she couldn't fail me at this point. It would look way too suspicious if a student who got 80%+ on assignments suddenly got less than 50%. I don't think I ever got the article back (I have a feeling it got passed around the English office so many times they just forgot) but I didn't care that much. I saw on my final report card it'd been 18/20. It must've made her angry, I hope, that she'd read my article and no doubt tried to fail it, but at this point, everyone was aware of her bullshit and prevented her from doing it. I got some dirty looks for the next few classes.

But there was one final straw that made me snap. See, my state holds a huge writing competition for high-schoolers every year. It's a massive deal, and people who win this competition often get sponsored or get scholarships based on it. Tens of thousands of entries get submitted. Obviously, I wanted to win it. Even getting shortlisted would do wonders for my uni application. Part of the school writing program meant that any short stories submitted over the year would automatically get entered in this competition, but I knew Mrs Slug would try and do me dirty. So I went to her directly, requesting to put in another version of the story I'd made with the feedback I'd gotten from the remarking. She told me, to my face, that she'd already submitted my story, so I couldn't change it. Fine. As long as it was submitted, I was happy.

I didn't get shortlisted. That hurt, a lot, since I'd really wanted it. But I figured the competition had been really good, so it was only fair. My little brother, however, got shortlisted for his year (he came in second), so I went to the awards ceremony with him.

Mrs Slug was there.

She looked shocked to see me. A little panicked, even. I was curious as to why she was there, but the answer revealed itself pretty quickly. One of the girls from my class had been shortlisted. Now listen, I'm not a bitter person. If someone genuinely writes better than me, I'm more than happy to accept that. But what I found awfully suspicious was that this particular girl had been given the highest mark in my class before I got reassessed. In other words, she had been Mrs Slug's favourite story. And her story had gotten 15/20. I know grades don't count for everything, and maybe my story had in fact been worse, but I was beginning to get a hunch as to what had happened.

As I said, I'm state recognised for my English ability, so I was able to get into contact with one of the people who had marked the competition. I asked, ever so innocently, if she'd read my story. She replied that she hadn't. I asked if she could check to see if any of the other markers had read it since it was a pretty distinctive story. The answer came back as I had feared. No one had read it.

Mrs Slug had lied through her teeth to my face. She hadn't submitted the story at all. She'd deliberately pulled it out of the submission pile because she was salty. This competition was a /huge/ deal to me- like I said, it would've been a massive part of my uni application. And she'd sabotaged it. She wanted me to fail.

I was fucking fuming at this point. Even today, I get angry thinking about it. I couldn't let this rest any longer. I was beyond pettiness. This was time for real revenge.

My parents both work in education, and my mum, in particular, was pretty high up in my area. She's also a bit of a tiger mum. When I told her what Mrs Slug had done, she was pissed. Like, so pissed. The idea that her kid might not go to uni because of a prejudiced teacher does not sit well with tiger mothers. She marched straight to the principal's office, and since he knew her, we were heard out almost immediately. I explained what happened, how I'd consistently been marked too lowly and my competition application had been removed without my knowledge. My mum was able to kick up a pretty big stink about it, ranting about how Mrs Slug shouldn't even be qualified to teach at all, let alone grade 12 ATAR English, and she needed to be removed immediately. The principal copped an earful, then the head of English did too. Both of them cowered in fear before the rage of my mother. There was nothing they could use to defend her, either- I had proof of the undermarking and the removal of my story application. Statements from my classmates confirmed she hadn't taught anything all year. It wasn't looking good for Mrs Slug.

She continued to sag behind her desk like a festering cancer for the last few weeks of the year, giving me stinky looks. I just quietly did my work, helping other people study for the final exam. I knew I'd done enough. In Australia, you can't just fire government workers, but you can move them. Sure enough, at the end of the year, she was relocated to the middle of fucking nowhere, to a school of fewer than 100 kids, where I hope she rots to this day. It's the closest you can get to being fired.

I got into university, by the way, and I'm now studying my English course. I should also mention that I got into the most competitive university in Australia, and I still get 80% and above in my short stories. That 40% she gave me was total bullshit, and I'm glad I made her suffer for it. No teacher should be able to get away with sabotaging their students like that, especially when it's their future on the line. I can only hope that the few students she teaches now don't have to experience the same thing.

TL;DR: my homophobic English teacher tried to fail me on my assignments, then sabotaged my chances in an important competition, so I got her essentially fired.

(source) story by (/u/millochi)

#prorevenge #by /u/millochi #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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rosegoldjen · 4 years

Text

cabin 3.0

word count: 2319

i wrote this a thousand years ago and don’t even remember if i posted it on here, but i just made a masterlist (eek!) and wanted to update it so i am reposting. maybe my calling during this quarantine is to focus more on writing? (who are we kidding that’s probably not going to happen)

I hate summer.

now I know some people would think I'm crazy, but in reality, I'm not. I never do anything productive during the summer; normally I sit on the couch at my parent's house and watch tv. all my problems would be solved if they would let me stay at university, instead of with them. all my friends are there, having fun and going to parties without me.

to make up for my laziness, my parents got me a summer job. I was to be a camp counselor at our local adventure camp for middle schoolers. my parents had sent me the letter of acceptance they had received, after submitting an application without my knowledge. I could probably sue them for forgery, but they would probably win. I just turned twenty last month, technically I was still a minor.

so after the drive home for university, I spent one night at my childhood home. the next morning my parents were shipping me off to the humid jungle where I would be spending each week with a different group of girls.

my dad dropped me off at the office building at 6:30 on a Saturday morning at the end of May. the campers wouldn't be arriving until Monday, but first, the leaders had to teach me what to do.

I grabbed my duffel out of my dad's trunk and waved as he drove off down the long dirt road that led to the camp, three miles from the nearest seven-eleven. I threw my duffel over my shoulder and walked up to the building just as the sun was starting to peek over the tops of the trees.

inside the office building, I found a lady sitting behind an aluminum desk. she was chewing her gum rather loudly attempting to keep herself awake.

"Hi," I said. "I'm here for the summer as a camp counselor...?"

I wasn't sure what to do. the lady stared at me for a few long moments with her eyes half-closed.

"find ya name on the papa' 'ere," she talked with a slight Jersey accent. she pointed to the paper and looked at me. "you'll be stayin' in a cabin with other counselors for two nights 'fore the campers get 'ere. alright?"

I nodded and looked down at the paper. I would be staying in cabin 3 for the next two nights.

I looked back at the lady behind the desk and decided I wouldn't be getting any more information out of her. I would find my own way around the camp. I walked out of the buildings and walked along a path to the right of the building. after I had walked for about five minutes, I came to a fork in the trail. thankfully, the trails had been clearly marked, pointing me in the directions towards the cabins.

cabin 3 was the cabin farthest back in my "cabin cluster." to get to it, I had to walk down a short stone path and the cabin itself couldn't be seen from the main trail. it had taken me a few minutes to find it.

when I got inside, the first thing I noticed was one of my roommates. he was sprawled across two of the three beds pushed together at the back of the cabin. I couldn't believe that one human being could take up so much space.

"excuse me," I dropped my duffel on the only empty bed. "do you really need all three beds?"

he finally seemed to notice I was in the room. he sat up and pushed his curly hair away from his face. the first thing I noticed was his physique. he was tall and broad, which would explain why he was spanning two twin beds. his hands were large and his eyes were green.

"Jesus. someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he smirked as he talked in a low, raspy tone.

"It was probably the side you were sleeping on, then."

"Woah, love. don't get all offensive. I plan on doing some mighty fine things on these beds."

oh my god.

"Alright, well, I'm going to be sleeping on this bed so mind your own business, okay?" I set my duffel down on the bed that only his foot was resting on.

"but what if that's the bed I wanted to sleep on?" he was still sitting and smirking at me. this guy, I didn't even know his name, was chosen to pick a fight with me over a bed. this was going to be a long summer.

"oh my god. I'm not in the mood right now. just pick whatever bed you want to sleep on and I will pick one of the others. probably the one that's farthest away from the one you pick."

he chose the bed closest to the window. I put my stuff down on the bed shoved against the opposite wall. he told me that we wouldn't be having another roommate. it was just me and him. he also told me that his name is Harry. God, doesn't that just sound like a dick name?

we had wasted a good fifteen minutes arguing about the bed situation. after we had come to a somewhat agreement, he had left and gone somewhere; he didn't tell me.

the leaders of the camp spent the day teaching the counselors how everything worked. we learned the activity rotation schedule, what time meals were, which cabins had to shower at night and which ones needed to shower in the morning.

Harry was there, messing around with a few of the other guys, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I was busy making my own friends and learning new things.

the next couple of days passed by quickly. they were filled with mock trials, some of the staffers pretending to be campers so the counselors could practice being leaders. when I had my mock trial, Harry was one of my campers and he was a total pain in the ass, especially when we got paired in a canoe together. he purposefully tipped us, the one day I was wearing my only white shirt. needless to say, he ruined my shirt and my favorite bralette.

if you think he is a pain during the day, it's even worse at night. he and I are the only two in our cabin. there is an uneven amount of staffers and we were the odd ones out on whatever list they used when arranging the staffers. someone must have cut out names, stuck them in a hat, and draw randomly. and wouldn't you know it to be me who gets stuck with the asshat the entire summer?

the staffers were allowed to sleep in their own cabins at night. it was something I was two parts thankful for and two parts mad about. I would spend my entire day with middle school girls, laughing and giggling, and probably talking crap about each other. but then I would come to my cabin at night and Harry would be there. sometimes he would even have another girl with him.

the days turned into weeks that passed by quickly. campers had come and gone, two people had been fired for fucking in the woods, and only one person had gone missing for more than eight hours. I was in the groove of things now, I felt like I could do it in my sleep.

as much as I hated it, I had learned some things about Harry. living with a person could do that to ya. he was very much a player. most nights I would come home and find a different counselor had used my conditioner and my favorite loofa. I learned that he would send the girl away around three in the morning and then he wouldn't wake up until I pounded his head with a pillow, swearing that I would tattle to the camp director about the number of girls he's had over.

it seemed like everywhere I turned, Harry was there. he was behind me in the line at the mess hall, pinching my ass and calling it cute. he was a supervisor at the beach during the time I brought my girls swimming, whistling when I pulled my t-shirt over my head. he was using the other washing machine at the laundry. we had ended up screaming at each other about the amount of detergent left and who was going to use it. and despite all this, he was still attractive as hell, with his tan skin, hard jawline, and muscular physique. damn him for being so hatable and so lovable at the same time.

on one particularly warm evening in June, I was looking forward to spending a night at the cabin. I had stayed with my girls for the first few nights, but they were beginning to get on my nerves and I needed a break. hopefully, Harry would be gone, doing God knows what, but I just wanted some peace and quiet.

my breathing was labored as I walked up the steps to the cabin. it had been a long day and all I wanted was a shower. I pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of a shirtless Harry lying on his bed reading a playboy magazine.

I closed the door harshly, causing him to look at me with a smirk. "hey baby girl."

I scowled at him and threw my bag on my bed. "don't call me that."

please call me that. I love the way it rolls off your tongue.

"Jesus, someone didn't get fucked today," he sat up and tossed his magazine to the side. pretty sure if the director found him with that he would be in serious trouble.

"excuse me?!" I had such an attitude.

"let's play a game."

"I want to take a shower."

"We can shower when we're done. now, it's two truths and a lie. except there's a twist. if you guess the wrong truth, you have to take off an article of clothing."

"but that's not fair! you already don't have a shirt on."

"and are you complaining?"

I stayed silent.

"that's what I thought. alright. I'll begin." he readjusted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. he motioned for me to sit down on mine, facing him. as I sat down, our knees brushed, causing a spark to shoot up my leg. "I once was caught in a traffic jam that was so bad, we had to get out on the side of the road and started walking faster than the cars, or my mum used to call me curly when I was younger, or I've had sex too many times to count."

"ah, that's an easy one. you've had sex too many times to count. right?"

"wrong. I've had sex 19 times," he seemed proud. "who the hell would let their mom call them curly?!"

"I think it's cute!"

"of course you would, princess. now off with your shirt. you guessed wrong."

I sighed, rolled my eyes, pulled my shirt over my head and sent an internal thanks that I had put my good bra on today.

"My turn," I looked at him smugly. "and what makes it even better is that you've already got your shirt off."

"let's just play the game, baby girl."

I blushed and cleared my throat. I wasn't used to being so forward. "I once had to pee so bad while we were on a hike that I squatted and wiped myself with a poison ivy leaf, last week I found a hairball in my mac & cheese, and lastly, I always forget to lock my front door when I leave the house."

he thought for a moment.

"finding a hairball in your mac & cheese. there is no way KP would let that happen," he had a smug look on his face as if he knew he was right and he knew he was all that.

"sorry fuckboy, it happened," I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed.

suddenly he stood up. I was sitting on the bed so he towered over me, more so that when I am standing. he inched his face closer to mine and placed his hands on either side of me so that they sank into the mattress. he kept leaning in, causing me to lean back to avoid contact with his skin.

"What did you just call me," his lips were deviously close to mine as they wrapped around his words.

"f-f-fuckboy," I stuttered, almost completely lain back on the mattress. he had pushed my legs apart so he could prop his knee between them, balancing himself as he hovered over me.

"call me that one more time," he growled, "and I swear to God I will take you on this mattress right here right now."

I stayed silent for a few moments. I didn't know if I actually wanted him to kiss me or if I wanted to avoid any trouble that would come from getting involved with a person like him. he was always on my mind constantly, usually thinking about how much I hate him. But I realized that at the same time, I couldn't wait to see him. I realized now that when I would take my girls to the beach, I was hoping he would be there. I was hoping he would be at the cabin alone when I would come back after a long day. I realized that I wanted him to kiss me and that I wanted the chase that came with kissing him.

a smile spread across my lips as I smirked at him.

"fuckboy."

and we were gone.

#hs #harry styles #harry style imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfication #harry styles fanfic #cabin #what the hell am i doing with my life

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vetwithablog · 5 years

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Personal Statement Advice

So this may seem a little early, but this post will be a big block of personal statement advice for those applying to vet school this October. If you’ve started writing and have hit a wall, if you don't know where to start, or if you haven't thought about it yet, read on, because there'll be something useful for you!

1. The early bird catches the worm.

As I mentioned, this may seem like a weird time to talk about personal statement writing. But with the early application deadline for VetMed in the UK, many schools insist on seeing a near-final PS by the time term starts. You will also go through multiple drafts of your PS; the first draft is almost never anything like what you end up submitting! So if you haven’t yet, I’d recommend you start writing your PS now. Which brings me to...

2. The internet is a valuable resource.

Now that most open days are over you probably have a pretty good idea of which universities you want to apply to. Most of the university websites will have a mine of information about how they use your personal statement, and also what they want from it. Some will heavily reference it in your interview, some will completely ignore it, and some will give it a ‘score’ which will determine whether or not you are asked to interview/given an offer. Similarly, knowing what kind of student your first choice vet school wants will help you tailor your personal statement to them - but be careful not to do this too heavily! My first choice university was Cambridge, who are incredibly science based and research-focused, so I made sure to reference any extra reading I had done, but my other choices, Bristol and RVC, also referred to my reading in the interview.

3. Where to start?

The first line of your personal statement is always the hardest; it needs to be catchy without being cliche. I recommend writing the easier stuff first; write your work experience stories, skills and achievements first. Inspiration for your first line will strike eventually! But avoid “since I was X years old, I’ve wanted to...” because it really has been done to death. More on cliches later. As a general rule of thumb, about 80% of your PS should be work experience, and the rest can be extra reading, hobbies, and other relevant bits.

4. Show, don't tell.

This is probably the biggest mistake people make when writing their PS. Don’t write about how you have a passion for learning, how you have an interest in animal welfare. Show us. Tell us about something you saw, maybe on work experience, that informs us about your fascination with disease, and curiosity for learning something. Don’t waste precious characters on overexplaining it either. The admissions officers are smart, and they'll fill in the blanks.

5. Avoid cliches.

There are a huge blacklist of words I could go on about, but the bottom line is cliches are overused. As a general rule, don't use anything you wouldn't use in your everyday vocabulary, but the big ones to avoid are:

piqued

relish

passion

fascination

aspiration

love

intrigued by

broadened my knowledge

... you get the idea!

6. Don’t lie.

This may seem like a fairly obvious one, but you’d be surprised by the number of people who lie about something small on their PS, and then get caught out at interview when they're asked more about a book they've not read or work experience they haven't done. Lying isn't cool, and as ‘honesty and integrity’ is a core value of the RCVS, then it doesn't look amazing on your application.

7. Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.

Go back and refine everything! Is it clear you understand what the job entails? Have you shown rather than told? Could you talk about everything you’ve mentioned at interview? Does every sentence make a point and deserve to be there? You only have 2000 characters so make sure everything is as concise as it can be, and if it doesn't need to be there, cut it out! Making sure everything flows is also important.

8. Proofreading

Get someone you know and trust to proofread your personal statement. My parents were excellent at grammar and spelling mistakes because they read CVs for a living, but someone like a teacher who knows you and has read other successful PSs will be able to give you a much better idea of what to put in or cut out. I went through 26 drafts and sent each one to my biology teacher, who came back to me with 25 emails with suggested improvements! Beware though - the more people you ask to read, the more opinions you’ll get, and this is your PERSONAL statement; at the end of the day, it’s your decision.

Hopefully this is helpful - feel free to send me a message if you have any more questions or you're confused by anything I’ve mentioned.

Happy writing!

L x

#vet #veterinary #vetmed #vetblr #vetlife #uni #application #personal statement

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daphnisetcommie · 5 years

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I was diagnosed with autism at a young age. My parents let on gradually that I had a disability, but I was in sixth grade before I knew what it was called. They have spent my entire lifetime advocating for me when I faced discrimination. I will never understand the full scope of their fight for my rights as an autistic student. And yet they still fail to understand enough of what I go through. It leads to so many willful disagreements. If I could just get the time to speak and be listened to and believed about my experience as an autistic person, 90% of the arguments that we have would not happen.

There are things that I can do better. There are things I am still learning to do. If pre-college me knew I was keeping a calendar, I would think that I was a big nerd, but I am in a much better position professionally because of it. If I could get to the point where I am right now in my life from where I was six years ago, imagine where I will be in another six.

I still do not understand what is happening. My dad says “You are on your own” but yet I have documentation from him telling me that I am not being “thrown out of the house.”

Every day I want to believe things can be better. And then the next willful misunderstanding happens. My father flies into a rage as I get up from my seat to take my melatonin. I caught 90% of his story about Jimmy. I feel for the man. He is suffering. I know this much from what my cousin tells me. But yet I know my dad acted in the right way in the situation, and I know that my uncle is in a better place now because of it. I missed a sentence because I was getting up to put the leftover chili I cooked in the refrigerator and I communicated to him as such. Suddenly, he is pulling out receipts from Google.com because I said I was preoccupied. Preoccupied means distracted. Distraction is involuntary. Do these people not know how humans work?

My brother told me he got 3.5 hours of sleep because of the way my parents handled the problem of him being behind on his calculus assignments. My dad insists my brother was lying to me. In the private communication via text message in which he confided to me about how the entire episode had taken a toll on his health. I asked why my brother would lie to me about something like that. My father says because he lies all the time. I ask why my brother would lie to me in a private communication in which he is confiding to me about something. He says because my brother is trying to turn me against my parents. As if all my dad does isn’t turn everyone in the family against each other.

Some of the dating insecurity issues came out in the conversation. Apparently to my dad I am a failure because I do not have a girlfriend. “Why do asexual people exist?” I ask. My dad responds with a non sequitur about how people in solitary confinement suffer long-lasting damage to their physical and mental health because of their lack of human connection. Never mind that human connection exists that isn’t sex.

I know I need to be more proactive. I know I need to do more outreach. And I do. I go through phases where the entire day I am really psyched to get that one resume out. I got the horses in the back. I need to make an impression. It’s gotta be just the right impression. I can’t fuck this up. It’s been hours and I’m staring at the same cover letter. I hate it just as much. This cover letter sucks. I’m sending it in anyway because I need to hit my resume quota for the day. There is a record in the universe of just how much I suck at writing cover letters. There is an online record of just how shitty I am at taking skills tests. I just got asked if I like being the center of attention twice. I respond “disagree” because I realize that by answering “strongly disagree” I am proving the reverse in the mind of the people who designed this evaluation. Never mind that I am always the center of attention because I am always under scrutiny. Never mind that I am deathly afraid of being the center of attention. The feeling never ends. I submit my application. I have been defeated. Meanwhile, a posting for an English teacher somewhere an hour’s drive away opens up. I am not qualified for it.

I am journaling to cope with the anxiety lite that I am currently experiencing but all I have succeeded in doing is distracting myself from my anxiety. It is still there in the same way that the pain in my leg still exists when I am not thinking about it. Every so often something happens that induces unbearable levels of uncertainty regarding my future, and then some months later, the universe manages to outdo itself. I hope I will be in a better place soon. I am going to counseling and building new coping mechanisms. Perhaps someday I will be completely satisfied with the path that my life has taken. For now, I am caught up in a part of my life which is all too familiar to my generation: “to be continued.”

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

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hi zee, i have a question that i've wanted to ask for a while now but you really don't have to answer if you don't want to, so i know that you're studying in canada right now on a scholarship and i was wondering how you got the scholarship? i don't really have anyone that i could ask and i've been having trouble finding them on my own, do you have tips tricks or advice maybe for people that wants to study abroad on a scholarship? it's totally fine if you don't want to answer it tho! ty c:

this is so late, and i’m sorry for forgetting to reply!! hopefully it isn’t too late ;w; (under the cut bc it’s so long!)

so firstly, you’re incredibly brave to want to study abroad!! not many people are willing to leave home and live alone in a foreign country, so props to you for even considering. yes, international tuition is much higher majority of the time, and there’s the stereotype that all international students are “rich” because of this, but really, many of us are only able to study abroad due to scholarships (like me!! i’m not necessarily dirt poor, but i definitely wouldn’t be able to pay the full tuition if i didn’t have a scholarship… at my uni, the tuition for international students is almost 3x the price of local students!! wack!!)

there are many ways you can get a scholarship, and one of the easiest and most direct places you can get one is from the university itself. in my uni, i get about $3000 worth of aid as long as i keep a solid A+ average (around 3.7 gpa) and an additional $1000 by winning a leadership prize that my uni sponsors annually. these prizes/aids are usually applied for, but some universities offer entrance awards for first year students based on your application. your prospective uni will usually outline the different scholarships and financial aid options for international students on their official website, so be sure to read carefully and see which ones you’re eligible for!!

then, there are many websites online that offer financial aid by applying for them (sort of like a contest of sorts). many of them require you to submit things like essays or graphic design entries in order to be considered for their scholarship. this is where i get majority of my tuition money from, and it’s really all about entering as many contests as you possibly can!! it’s incredibly advantageous if you have skills like writing, drawing, painting, designing, etc because these are usually what these companies/websites are looking for. just google for them and a bunch are sure to pop up.

also, idk if this applies to where you live, but in my home country, many rich old people often sponsor bright prospective students and help them get their education abroad. i have one friend who got a sponsorship from this millionaire back home, and all she has to do is keep up a consistent grade and her sponsor will keep paying for her schooling. again, idk if you’ll be lucky enough to find one of these “sponsors” but it never hurts to look around, you know? (this is NOT a sugar daddy btw hsajdhajs just wanted to make myself clear)

and… at the end of the day, there’s also work you can consider. even though i have a bunch of scholarships, it’s still not enough to pay for my entire tuition, not to mention i have to think about rent and food and other stuff as well. it’s why i have to work two jobs at a time sometimes to make things work, or sometimes i’ll have to ask my parents for help (which i hate doing because. well. i’m just not about that life.) so you can take that into account as well.

if you’re really worried about money and not sure if you’ll be able to support yourself financially while abroad, i suggest making a plan of sorts on how much money you think you can acquire through scholarships FIRST, and then seeing if you can sustain yourself with that money CONSISTENTLY or not. bc it’s easy to think “oh, as long as i get my entrance award, then that’s good enough” when really, you have to think longterm as well. think about WHERE the funds will come from (parents, relatives, scholarships, work) and whether this will be enough to keep you afloat when you get out there into the world.

good luck!! idk how helpful this is, but to anyone out there wondering if it’s worth going abroad to study… i can’t say that for certain, but i CAN say that it’s possible. remember: studying abroad in top schools will only bring you so far; your own ability and effort is what will matter in the long run.

#HASJDHJASH THIS GOT LOJNG #damn i should just make a tag for all the asks i answer when i give advice #zee gives advice #Anonymous #answered

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lariosrbacreejw68insurance-blog · 5 years

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URGENT Life insurance MONEY question?

I am 18 and in a year my boyfriend and I plan to move to brooklyn. My father passed away when I was 12. I have 4 Guadians and they control the money I received from his life insurance. They set up that I don t recieve the money until I m 21. If I can prove I have an apartment and job can I recieve the money when I m 19 ?

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :cheapinsurancequotes1.info

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say-alittleprayer · 5 years

Text

From the beginning to the end

I’ve always been an average student. Yet, in God’s kindness, I’ve been able to get into otherwise unlikely academic courses, not once but twice.

ONE:

My score for O Levels was average. It wasn’t good enough for a diploma in Psychology & Community Services at Polytechnic; I was a point short. But still, God provided and I was able to enter it based on other merits. Side note: I actually went into Psychology with an interest in Speech Therapy.

I went through the effort to submit an application, prepared and went for an interview only to forgo the opportunity and instead enrolled myself into Junior College. I remember deciding not to go ahead with it mainly because it was the ‘risky’ option. Junior College was what seemed to be a more traditional option – an option that would increase one’s chances of entering university.

Almost three months into Junior College, I changed my mind. I realised how it was not going to work out for me; If I had stayed any longer, I am almost certain that I would have failed in my first year. My parents were extremely supportive of my decision and so, we rang up the Polytechnic. They told me that there weren’t any spots left but they were willing to make an exception because they had previously offered me a spot.

TWO:

My score/GPA for my diploma was average. It wasn’t good enough for the more prestigious local universities. Even if it was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue with Psychology. I was also considering Social Work and Nursing at that time.

I started knowing more about therapy related jobs during my diploma internship. And I was a lot more interested in what the therapists were doing. I learned about Occupational Therapy and a dear sister-in-christ made arrangements for me to do an observational attachment.

I looked it up and thought maybe but the chances were quite low. There was a diploma course available but it was only for those who went to Junior College and who had completed their A levels. There was no degree available at that time and so, my only option was to study Occupational Therapy overseas. But there was no way my parents could afford the hefty insane marked up international student costs.

And that’s how the idea of applying for a scholarship came about. Never in my life did I see myself as a scholar. As I’ve said earlier, I’ve always been an average student. But there were no alternatives except to work and save up in order to fund myself, which would take many years. The requirements of the scholarship included a diploma with merit or equivalent. I tried for the scholarship with my average GPA; I didn’t obtain a diploma with merit.

In God’s kindness, I was offered the interview. An admin staff then sent out a mass email to all the interviewees asking for a copy of our academic transcripts and other relevant documents. Lo and behold, I clicked reply to all and sent everyone all my important documents. *slow clap* A kind acquaintance who studied in the same Polytechnic replied to my email and told me about this embarrassing mistake. Oh, can you imagine the horror.

On the day of my interview, I found out that I was the last one for the day. Everyone before me went in for what seems to be a really long time. The girl before me went in and some time had passed. I needed to use the bathroom and I thought there’ll be time for that but just as I was about done, one of the staff came in and told me it was my turn. What timing! I washed my hands and wanted to wipe them off with paper towels but there was none. And then I remember thinking to myself that the hand dryer would take too long. And also, it would seem unprofessional to walk in with hand prints on my dress. So, I decided not to dry my hands and not shake hands with those on the panel. Side note: Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure they would have been understanding if I took a little longer. I think I was just in a panic mode at that time.

During the interview, everything seemed to go smoothly until one of the interviewers stopped me midway and said something along the lines of: “I think I have to stop you there. We have to respect the differences between Physiotherapy and Occupational Therapy.” Yet another horror.

After the interview, I walked out and the staff who called me in said: “wow, that was quick”. My interview only took at most 15 minutes. I went home and I think I cried telling my family what happened – the interview was a traumatizing experience. Side note: Now that I think about it, maybe the interview only took 15 minutes because I was the last person for the day.

The next morning, I received a call and yes, God has once again showed me his loving kindness. Yes, I was shocked. Yes, I squealed a little. Yes, I cried happy tears :’) but only after the phone call ended. I was holding back during the phone call; I pretended to be composed when in fact, all I was thinking was: How can this be true? Is this real? Side note: Now that I think about it, why did I pretend when it was indeed a happy news to be celebrated.

So yes, a year after the happy news, I packed my luggage and started my four year journey in Perth.

FOUR YEARS:

Four years on, it’s time I pack my bags and return to my island home that is Singapore. It has been an incredible four years and I’ve grown to love Perth more and more and very much. I am eternally grateful for the blessed opportunity to study overseas. I definitely learned more than what I thought I came for.

I’ve always been quite lukewarm with my relationship with God. It’s there but not quite - you could classify it as non-existent before I moved to Perth. My god was more of a feeling. Yet, the true and living God was gracious and in His kindness, I’ve been enjoying huge and wonderful privileges. There were challenges and lessons learned but my journey from the beginning to the end has mostly been smooth sailing.

From an older post I wrote (and I decided to put it here because still relevant):

I chose to study in Perth partly because it is quiet and peaceful city, which I thought I could maybe make good use of to draw closer to God. However, some part of me also felt that I might drift away from Him because … lazy… lazy to find a church… lazy to go to church… (and got no parents hehe) (add on: I was thinking if I have been going to church only because my parents were and maybe it was just part of my routine). But I am so thankful I found UCI (UniChurch International). It didn’t take me long to settle down in the church, where I really feel encouraged to keep growing and learning His word. I also feel very encouraged by the love and care the brothers and sisters have for one another, and I have learned so much from everyone.

All of these, to Him I owe. And so, I pray that I will never forget but instead, always remember in my heart who God is – how great and holy is he, how loving, gracious and kind is he. I pray that I will always remember all that he has done for me – all that was mentioned before and more importantly, that God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, into the world who died in our place, took our punishment and brought forgiveness. Thank God that Jesus did not stay dead. God raised Jesus to life again as the ruler of the world. Jesus has conquered death, now gives new life and will return to judge.

Oh how great it is to have such an awesome God! Thank God for how He has revealed himself to me through his Son and his precious word.

Four years on, it is difficult to say goodbye to what has been one of my greatest experience by far. But I thank God for all these and to Him be the glory.

I have also been extremely blessed by all the wonderful people I’ve met throughout my four years in Perth. Thank you to all my dear friends, classmates, brothers and sisters in Christ xx

#textreflection

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